


Burdens Shared

by RaeDMagdon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Lexa, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/F, First Time, Fluff, Mating, Omega Clarke, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Romance, Vaginal Sex, courting, no mount weather betrayal, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Lexa wonders if, perhaps, she has finally found the only other person in the world who can understand the burdens she carries.





	Burdens Shared

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on tumblr @raedmagdon for more writing! And I love reviews. ^^

The war with the Mountain Men is over.

The entire camp is alight with torches, full of the sounds of celebration. Everywhere, Grounders and Sky People are laughing, drinking, toasting another day of life. In the light of the bonfire, the differences between them don’t seem so obvious. For tonight, at least, the two groups have merged, sharing a profound sense of relief. They have gotten their people back, with hardly any casualties on their end.

Lexa observes the scene from some distance away. The celebration is well-deserved. She and her people have never known life without the looming threat of the Mountain, without  _ Ripa, _ without loss. Although she knows peace will not last—Nia will certainly try to expand her influence without the shared threat of Mount Weather to keep  _ Azgeda _ somewhat compliant—for the moment, she allows herself to breathe.  _ Skaikru _ is not the threat she had feared. They will be welcomed into Polis and the Coalition as heroes, as will Clarke.

Clarke.

As always, Lexa finds herself searching for the omega. It doesn’t take her long. Clarke’s presence practically glows in the firelight, and even amidst the storm of smells, Lexa can pick out her scent. In the short time they have known each other, Clarke’s aura has blossomed. The tinges of something metallic and artificial have faded to reveal the smell of forest and flowers beneath, a scent that Lexa finds just a little too appealing.

The sound of Clarke’s laughter carries over the din of the crowd. The white of her teeth and the gold of her hair gleam in the firelight, and for a single moment, Lexa can’t breathe. Her heart shoots up into her throat and it takes an effort of will to swallow it back down.

Just as Clarke turns away, laughing to one of her friends, Lexa feels a presence at her shoulder. Thanks to the smell of woodsmoke, she knows who it is without turning around. “Anya,” she says, folding her hands behind her back and continuing to stare straight ahead, deliberately away from Clarke.

_ “Heda.” _ Anya arrives at her shoulder, gazing toward the same bonfire she’s pretending to gaze into. “This is a fine celebration.”

“A necessary one.”

Anya nods. It is necessary, and both of them know it. The thrilling energy of a victory needs to be expended somehow. It’s swirling in the air all around them, the stink of blustering alphas who have survived a successful battle, the welcoming spice of omegas who are glad to be home…

Lexa blinks, suddenly realizing that her eyes have wandered back to Clarke. The Sky girl is unlike any other omega she has ever met. Her people are proud of their omegas: many are warriors in their own right, and many more are politicians and advisers, with their penchant for settling disputes. But Clarke is something more. Clarke has taken her omega instincts—to bind people together, to inspire, to forge the bonds of family and clan—and turned them into the qualities of a leader.

Even without the natural instincts of an alpha, Clarke is the servant-leader of her people, just as Lexa is. She carries the same burden, and she carries it with awe-inspiring strength. Clarke hadn’t even been born into the role. She had simply taken it on. That, more than anything else, leaves Lexa in awe of her.

“She is something, isn’t she?”

To her dismay, Lexa realizes she has been caught staring. She has spent years training to keep her instincts under tight control, but Clarke makes her feel like an undisciplined pup again. She swallows, tightening her jaw. “Explain what you mean.”

Part of her hopes that Anya won’t dare. The other alpha may have been her mentor, but they are no longer  _ Fos _ and  _ Seken. _ She is Heda now and Anya is one of her subjects.

But, of course, Anya does dare.

_ “Klark kom Skaikru. _ Forgive me,  _ Heda, _ but you have an interest in her.”

Anya’s tone is overly familiar despite the use of her title, but Lexa cannot bring herself to force a confrontation. She merely sighs. It is tempting to unburden herself, even just a little, but she knows that is impossible, even to the closest person she has to a friend. This is something she will have to figure out on her own. To be Heda is to be alone. And yet…

“Traditionally, Heda does not take a mate,” she says instead. “The pups could be  _ Natblida, _ and those  _ Natblida _ might be shown favoritism at the next Conclave.”

“You don’t believe that,” Anya says, in a flat tone that Lexa certainly would have objected to from anyone else. But Anya’s scent is not challenging—she is simply stating the truth. “The Spirit chooses, regardless of supposed advantages. And you have never been traditional, despite what Titus would like to believe.” The alpha gestures at the bonfire. “Other  _ Hedas _ would have called these strangers invaders and wiped them out. You allied with them and secured a future for our people. Following tradition does not always guarantee success.”

Hearing such words from Anya is something of a surprise. They are more rebellious than Lexa might have expected, and yet she cannot deny the truth in them. She is not like other  _ Hedas. _ She has always forged her own path: a path that, perhaps, she might not need to walk alone, despite what she has been taught.

If anyone can even begin to understand the burden she carries, the responsibilities she has shouldered, it is Clarke.

With startling clarity, Lexa realizes:  _ This may be my only chance. My only chance for someone to know me, to understand… _

This could very well be her only chance to experience life rather than simply enduring it for her people’s sake. She remembers Costia, the soft, gentle omega who opened her heart years ago, for better and worse. She tasted love once before, and all the logic in the world cannot make her forget how it felt. It cannot sate her human thirst for more.

“It will not be easy,” Lexa says. “There are those who would object.”

“There are those who would support you,” Anya counters, as if she has been expecting such an argument all along. “And what better way to bring  _ Skaikru _ into the fold as the Thirteenth Clan than to take their leader as your mate?”

“Our alliance has already been forged in blood…”

“Blood is weaker than some of our people might prefer to admit.”

Lexa chuckles, shaking her head and turning to stare at Anya in disbelief. “This may be the first time you have ever encouraged me to do something rash. What happened to the strict  _ plangona _ who trained me?”

Anya gives her a rare smile. “You are no longer a  _ goufa _ who needs training. You are  _ Heda. _ What you have done is already unprecedented. You don’t merely follow those who came before. You chart a course forward.”

Lexa closes her eyes, but when she reaches inward toward the guiding star that is the Flame, she finds no objections. She finds only warm encouragement. Her anxieties and doubts are all her own, and that is even more reassuring than Anya’s words.

Her gaze drifts back to Clarke, who is lifting a goblet of something to her lips, her arm linked at the elbow with the tall  _ Skaikru _ boy who breached the Mountain first—Bellamy. “She would need to accept me as well,” Lexa murmurs, mostly to herself. They have shared one kiss, a result of her own weakness, although she is beginning to reevaluate that interpretation of events. But one kiss is not a mating bond. It is not even permission to court. And Clarke has history with her own people, history that may make her unwilling to consider a  _ Kyongedon _ as a potential mate, no matter what title they bear…

“She will accept you,” Anya declares.

Lexa draws in a deep breath. “Then tomorrow, I must go hunting.”

***

The next morning, Clarke wakes up with a splitting headache and a foul taste in her mouth. She groans, unable to form words, and immediately regrets the grating sound as it hits her ears. It’s far too early for there to be any noise at all—a fact she wishes someone would tell the forest birds shrieking outside. The wonders of Earth don’t seem nearly so wondrous while she’s suffering from a killer hangover.

She cracks open her eyes, blinking as she surveys her blurry surroundings. Someone’s legs are sprawled across her knees—Raven’s, she can tell, from the metal brace digging into her calf—and she’s resting her head on someone else’s stomach. It’s Bellamy’s. His alpha scent is powerful, and thanks to the sweat stains on his shirt, which are right near her nose, it’s hard to avoid. Octavia is lying next to her, one arm thrown casually across her abdomen, and Monty is curled up in a ball on her other side, sleeping half on top of a drooling, snoring Jasper. She’s right in the middle of a human jigsaw puzzle, and from the looks of it, she’s the first one awake.

Slowly, Clarke begins the process of extricating herself from the tangle of limbs. Lifting off Bellamy is easy enough, but wiggling her legs out from beneath Raven’s is less straightforward. Octavia is also a surprisingly insistent cuddler, which makes crawling out from beneath her grip a trial in and of itself. But finally, after several minutes of Twister, she manages to squirm free from her pile of sleeping friends and stagger to her feet.

She immediately regrets it. Her head spins, and she reaches through the air for a moment to try and regain her footing. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to grip, so she has to rely on her shaky sense of balance to right herself. Smacking her dry lips and trying to ignore how thick her tongue feels, she swallows and goes in search of water. She’d had no clue she could be both uncomfortably dehydrated and in desperate need of a private place to pee at the same time.

When she pulls open the tent flap, she instantly forgets both of her body’s needs.

There, lying on the ground, is a dead deer. A large, freshly killed deer with an arrow sticking out of its jugular. Its tongue is flopping out of its mouth at a very offputting angle and its blank eyes are staring at nothing.

Clarke recoils in horror. She’s seen worse things—the acid fog comes to mind—but never immediately after rolling out of bed. “What the _ fuck _ ?”

Her shout is enough to summon the others. With more groans and a lot of rustling, they rouse from sleep and hurry over to peer at the corpse themselves.

“Looks like someone left you a present, princess,” Bellamy says, his nose only wrinkled slightly in disgust.

Raven rolls her eyes at him. “A present? Seriously?”

“How do you know it’s for Clarke?” Monty asks.

“It’s definitely for Clarke,” Octavia says. “Look.”

At her gesture, Clarke notices the scrap of blood red cloth tied around the deer’s large antlers for the first time. The color triggers memories, and a familiar scent rises unbidden in her nose—a scent it takes her a moment to realize is coming from the deer and not just her imagination.

_ Lexa. _

Of course it’s from Lexa. Who else would leave a fucking deer right outside her door? That isn’t even the strangest thing the Commander has done in the few weeks they’ve known each other.  _ And that’s not even counting the fact that we kissed… _

Jasper shakes his head. “What is this, some kind of weird Grounder declaration of war?” he says, startling Clarke out of her thoughts. (His voice isn’t enough to distract from the heat in her cheeks, however.)

“Why would you think that?” Bellamy asks. “They’re our allies now. This is probably a gift. Food, you know?”

“It isn’t just food,” Octavia says. Something in her tone causes everyone else to look at her.

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks. At the very least, looking at Octavia is an excuse  _ not _ to look at the dead animal lying at her feet.

“One morning, after Lincoln took me to his cave, I woke up to find a dead boar lying outside…”

Octavia’s voice trails off, but it takes Clarke a moment to put the pieces together. Her brain is still fuzzy thanks to her hangover. Then, finally, it clicks. Octavia and Lincoln are mates. Lincoln brought Octavia a boar. Lexa brought her a deer. That means…

Bellamy says what they’re all thinking. “Wait. Is this some kind of Grounder mating thing?”

Raven’s face falls. “Gotta pee,” she says, and immediately starts limping off toward the edge of camp.

“Don’t worry about her,” Monty says, giving Clarke a sympathetic look. “It’s just…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Clarke mutters. She’s all too aware of Raven’s dislike for Lexa. The beta has made it very clear that she holds Lexa responsible for Finn’s death—a fact Clarke is secretly, guiltily grateful for, since it means that at least one of her close friends doesn’t consider her responsible, even if she considers  _ herself _ responsible.

“So, what are you going to do?” Monty asks. “The Commander kind of just threw an elephant into your room.”

“A deer on your doorstep,” Jasper chimes in.

Clarke grimaces. She isn’t exactly sure  _ what _ she’s going to do. She’s barely come down from the high of battle. She and Lexa are from completely different worlds. The fact that Lexa thinks it’s appropriate to give her dead animals is proof of that. And Lexa is the  _ Commander. _ She’s some kind of solitary, quasi-religious figure in addition to being a warchief, from what Clarke can gather. This all seems so sudden and out of character…

_ But is it really? _ another voice in her head says.  _ She told you about that girl… the girl the Ice Nation took from her. And there was the kiss. _

Yes. The kiss. The kiss she had willingly participated in, but still didn’t understand. Sure, she had wanted to. Lexa had wanted to. In the tent, before their battle with the Mountain Men, it had been about the moment, about their scents mixing just right, about the visible throbbing of Lexa’s heart in her throat and the boiling heat between her own legs…

She hadn’t thought it through. She hadn’t needed to think it through. It was a kiss, a moment of life while death was hovering over them. But this? Lexa has obviously thought this through. Going hunting, bringing down a deer, and dragging it to her tent takes foresight. It’s not an impulsive decision at all.

“I guess I’ll talk to her?” she says at last, turning up her palms in utter confusion.

“Sure,” Bellamy says with a soft snort. “‘Talk’. Hey, ow!”

Clarke catches a glimpse of Octavia slugging his shoulder from the corner of her eye. The other omega gives her an encouraging smile. “Talking is good. But you should probably brush your teeth first.”

“Mmhmm.”

Without another word, Clarke steps over the deer and heads off to—well, she isn’t sure what. Find some water. Find some breakfast. And, eventually, find Lexa. Maybe by the time her hangover is gone and she feels human again, she’ll have thought of something to say.

***

Lexa twirls her knife idly in her hand, watching the glittering blade slice through the air. She knows she should feel at ease. The war is won, and her warriors are still celebrating her victory a full day later. But it is not in her nature to relax, and now, she has a new worry on her mind: a far more personal worry.

She has not seen Clarke today. Usually, she and the omega find their way to each other, one way or another. The Sky girl’s absence leaves a curious emptiness in Lexa’s chest, an emptiness her racing mind is eager to fill with doubt.

Perhaps Clarke did not appreciate her gift. Perhaps Clarke is trying to come up with a polite way to reject it. Perhaps Clarke is afraid if she  _ doesn’t  _ accept it, her people will pay the price. Lexa nearly cuts herself at that thought. Her knife slips from her fingers, falling to the ground. She shouldn’t have left the deer without speaking to Clarke first. She should have explained—

_ “Heda?” _

Lexa jolts upright in the middle of picking up her knife. She settles back on her throne as quickly as possible, trying to strike a casual pose.  _ “Min yu op.” _

It is Indra who enters, her brow furrowed with something that looks like suspicion. Her alpha scent is wary, but Lexa is able to ignore it, because she catches something else beneath it, a hint of honey that has her mouth watering in moments.

She knows what Indra will say before she says it.

_ “Klark kom Skaikru _ requests an audience with you.”

Lexa nods. Only years of practice allow her to keep her face somewhat neutral even as her heart rate spikes. “I will see her. Bring her to me.”

Indra gives her a doubtful look, but only for a moment before bowing her head in acquiescence.  _ “Sha, Heda.” _ She disappears from the tent, leaving Lexa alone with a tight throat and trembling hands.

Lexa uses her last few moments alone to compose herself. Regardless of what Clarke has come to tell her, she must remain calm and collected…

The moment Clarke’s scent hits her nose and the tent flap stirs, Lexa’s preparations become meaningless. A wide smile spreads across her face, a smile that comes unbidden even though she knows the omega may have come to deliver bad news. She can’t help it. Simply being in Clarke’s presence brightens everything around her.

“Clarke,” she says, standing without really thinking about it.

Her heart skips a beat when the omega returns her smile with a shy, confused one of her own. “Hey, you.”

It’s a mode of address that none of her people would have even dared to dream of, but Lexa’s stomach flutters with happiness. Perhaps that is part of why Clarke has captured her heart so—the omega had not started out as one of her people. Clarke hasn’t always known her as  _ Heda, _ and that gives her the ability to see Lexa as well, the woman underneath. There is no bowing, no scraping, no grovelling. Just: “Hey, you.”

Their eyes hold for a moment too long. Lexa swallows, trying to collect herself. “Indra says you wished to see me?”

Clarke blinks, as if she too is distracted. “Yes. It’s about… uh, the deer.”

Lexa nods. Clarke has always been one for direct honesty. “I hunted him early this morning. He is my gift to you—a gift I offer freely.”

“Right, a gift.” Clarke’s teeth dig briefly into her lower lip, but that has the unintended consequence of drawing Lexa’s eyes to her lips to begin with. Her own tingle as she remembers how it had felt when they kissed…

There is an uncomfortable stirring between her legs, a stirring Lexa struggles to tamp down. The last thing she needs is to put even  _ more _ pressure on Clarke by letting her instincts get the better of her. She may be an alpha, but she has trained all her life to maintain control.

“If my gift does not meet with your satisfaction—”

“It does,” Clarke blurts out, extending her hand a few inches before thinking better of it and drawing it back. “I mean, it was a nice gesture. My people don’t usually give each other dead animals, but… I came to say thank you. I guess you do things differently down here.”

Lexa nods once, slowly, trying to parse through Clarke’s reaction. The omega’s cheeks are pink and her scent is favorable, but her blue eyes are wide with something that looks a little like bewildered terror. She decides to respond cautiously, with a question. “I take it hunting does not have the same meaning for your people?”

“Uh, not exactly. We don’t. Hunt, I mean.”

That is a surprise. She had known  _ Skaikru _ were different, but not hunting? It is somewhat unfathomable. Even in cities, where animals are raised in pens until they are ready to be eaten, hunting is still part of the fabric of life. She smiles slightly. “I suppose my visions of your people hunting fantastic creatures amongst the stars are inaccurate.”

“Unfortunately,” Clarke says, laughing softly. “That sounds better than growing up in a floating metal box.”

Lexa’s brow furrows. “Is that really how you view your life before coming to Earth from the Sky?”

Clarke smiles at her. “Are you kidding? My life didn’t  _ start _ until I came down to Earth.”

_ She isn’t talking about you, _ the logical voice in Lexa’s brain reminds her.  _ She hasn’t officially accepted your gift, or said she wants you to court her. _ And yet, Lexa cannot ignore the hope stirring within her. “Even with all the death and bloodshed you have witnessed, you still prefer life here?”

Clarke nods. “Absolutely. On Earth, you aren’t just counting days. You can hold the future in your hands.” She pauses, pressing her lips into a thin line. “It sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

“No,” Lexa says, taking a step forward. Approaching Clarke is a bad idea—the uncomfortable ache between her legs grows stronger as more of Clarke’s scent enters her nose—but she cannot help herself. “No,” she says again, softer this time. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

“Really?” Clarke says, raising her eyebrows. “This, coming from Miss I Have No Feelings?”

It is Lexa’s turn to avert her eyes, alpha and Commander though she may be. “Someone reminded me recently that fighting to preserve a future for my people is pointless if that future isn’t fully enjoyed.”

“Someone?” Clarke bridges the gap between them, until they are standing face to face, nose to nose. She is near enough for Lexa to feel the warmth of her breath, to see the texture of her lips as she runs her tongue over them.

Lexa leans in, dizzy with want. She can taste Clarke’s lips already, can remember how soft they are. She cannot say how the omega’s mouth manages to be both insistent and pliant beneath her own, but she wants to taste it until she finds the words to describe just how much she…

_ “Heda?” _

She snaps away just as Clarke leans in.

Indra is standing at the entrance to the tent, with only her head poking through. “One of your messengers has returned from  _ Azgeda.” _

“And I suppose Queen Nia has much to say about our victory over the  _ Maunon,” _ Lexa says, unable to conceal her irritation.

“Indeed.” Indra’s eyes fix on Clarke. “And much to say about your new alliance.”

“Message received,” Clarke says to Indra, holding up both hands. “I won’t interrupt your business. We can pick this up later, Commander.” She slips past Indra and out of the tent before Lexa can call her back.

When she leaves, Lexa feels as if a piece of herself has gone away as well. She gives Indra a sour look, one Indra is graceful enough to pretend to ignore.

“Bring me the messenger,” Lexa grumbles. “I will hear what they have to say.”

***

They had been about to kiss.

It’s all Clarke can think about as she hurries away from Lexa’s tent. She ignores the stares she earns as she blunders through the campground, barely sparing a thought for where she’s walking. They had been about to kiss,  _ again, _ only this time…

Only this time, it would have meant something.

Lexa has given her a gift. Sure, it’s a dead animal, but still. Kisses after gifts are something people in relationships do. Is that what the alpha wants? A relationship? A future? What would that even look like? Lexa is the Commander of the Twelve Clans. Surely mating with her will be anything but simple…

_ Mating? Will be? _

Oh no. She’s already thinking about it like it’s an inevitability. Clarke can’t remember making up her mind, but it seems her body has made it up for her. The sticky warmth between her legs is impossible to ignore, and Lexa’s scent is still in her nose, clinging to her jacket, almost like the Commander had been pumping out pheromones specifically meant to mark her.

Clarke groans. There are about a hundred ways this could go wrong. Becoming Lexa’s mate will cause all kinds of political strife. Based on the interaction she had just witnessed between Lexa and Indra, it might even start a civil war. And yet, when she had gazed into Lexa’s deep green eyes, she hadn’t seen a trace of doubt. Before their interruption, Lexa had seemed perfectly sure of herself.

_ How can she be so sure when I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing? _

The only thing Clarke is sure of is that Lexa is unlike anyone else she has ever met. The alpha does not lead as most alphas do, through sheer force of will. She leads with a calmness and certainty that Clarke cannot help but envy. And though Lexa pretends to be detached, beneath the facade of the Commander, she is anything but.

“What the fuck am I doing?” she groans under her breath.

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Clarke comes to an abrupt halt. She had been about to run into Octavia, whose scent she hadn’t even picked up in her agitated state. Lacking for an answer, Clarke merely shrugs her shoulders and gives the other omega a helpless look. As decisive as she pretends to be with her fellow Delinquents, for once, she can’t see a clear course of action.

“I guess that means talking to her didn’t clear anything up,” Octavia says. When she touches Clarke’s elbow, Clarke doesn’t resist. She allows her friend to drag her to a quieter corner of camp where the two of them can talk near the treeline.

“It’s not that I don’t want her,” Clarke blurts out as soon as they’re alone. “I’m just not sure if I’m  _ allowed _ to want her.”

To her surprise, Octavia laughs. “We’re on Earth, Clarke. That’s the beauty of this place. You can do whatever you want. There are no rules.”

“But there are,” Clarke protests. “There are a whole bunch of rules we don’t even know yet, invented by people who were trying to kill us not so long ago. What happens if I get them wrong, or break them by accident? The Commander’s mate is going to be held to a ridiculously high standard—”

Octavia’s eyes widen. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”

“She gave me a dead deer, Octavia,” Clarke insists. “That’s a pretty big cultural gap right there.”

“Then forget about whether you want to be the Commander’s mate. Do you want to be Lexa’s?”

Clarke blinks in surprise. So far, no one else has seemed to understand the line between Lexa and The Commander. No one else has even referenced it. She’s not even sure how many of the Grounders think of Lexa as a person beyond her title. But Octavia isn’t a Grounder, even though she has taken to dressing and acting like one. She sees Lexa as a person too, and somehow, that thought is a relief.

“Yes,” Clarke says, surprising even herself with the swiftness of her answer. That  _ yes _ is a huge weight off her shoulders. With each new layer Lexa sheds before her, the deeper she wants to go.

“Okay.”

Clarke’s brow furrows. “Okay? That’s all you have to say?”

Octavia shrugs. “Yes. Sometimes you just know.”

“I just realized I’m taking advice from a girl who chose her mate after like three days.”

“And I’m very happy with my choice, even though you and Bellamy tried to ruin everything.”

Clarke gave the other omega a sheepish look. Looking back, she and Bellamy hadn’t always made the smartest decisions. “In our defense, we thought we were all going to die.”

“I know. I was there. And a word of advice. Raven won’t be too happy to hear you’re interested in the alpha who killed Finn.”

“That’s not advice,” Clarke sighs. “That’s stating an unpleasant fact.”

“My advice is to deal with it,” Octavia says. “Don’t ask me how. I lived under the floor my whole life until now. The only person I had around to argue with was Bellamy.”

Clarke bites her lip. Lately, Octavia has undergone a very drastic change in personality—and that occasionally includes biting references to her time aboard the Ark. It’s a feeling Clarke can relate to, in a shadow of a way, but her experience aboard the Ark, no matter how unpleasant, was nowhere near comparable to Octavia’s.

“It’s okay,” Octavia says after a while. “No one ever knows what to say when I bring it up.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says, but the attempt feels awkward, and so she changes it to: “I’m sorry Bellamy was one of the only people you could have a conversation with for seventeen years. He just grunts, mostly.”

“And the brooding stare.” Octavia laughs.

Clarke lets out a relieved breath. “Thanks for this, Octavia.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need help eating that deer, or whatever she brings next.”

“Sure.” Clarke starts to get up, then freezes. “Wait, what do you mean ‘whatever she brings next’?”

***

Lexa creeps through the underbrush, stepping softly over fallen leaves. The wind is faint, but the sound of birdsong is strangely absent from the tops of the trees. That means she is close to her quarry. She recognizes the railings, the walls overgrown with vines and moss. It brings back memories—the copper taste of adrenaline on her tongue and a lance of fear that pierces her lungs deeper with each throb of her heart.

Her previous encounter here had frightened her, but not because she might die. Someone would have recovered her body and retrieved the Flame so it could be returned to Polis. But Clarke… even shortly after their first meeting, she had not considered the omega to be expendable in the same way she was. Only now, after the seeds within her have blossomed, does she truly understand why she had been so terrified then. Her own death had been acceptable to her that day, but Clarke’s death had not.

The sound of rustling causes Lexa to whip her head left. She pauses, hand hovering near her blade, but there isn’t even a hint of movement. The woods are eerily still. Suddenly, the branches beside her explode. A huge black and silver shape hurtles toward her, towering high enough to blot out the dappled forest sunlight. It is the  _ pauna _ that haunts this area of the forest, the same one that had almost killed her and Clarke.

Lexa reacts on instinct. She draws her sword in a single motion, rushing toward the beast with a roar of rage. The beast roars back, yellow eyes burning, white fangs dripping with froth.

The  _ pauna _ swings, shattering more branches, but Lexa is just fast enough to dodge the cudgel of its fist. She ducks, sweeping her sword toward its legs, but the blade isn’t sharp enough to pierce the beast’s thick pelt. It glances uselessly off the  _ pauna’s _ hide, and Lexa is forced to roll away.

Her strike only serves to make the  _ pauna _ angrier. It howls its fury, spraying her with more spittle as it unleashes a flurry of blows. It is terrifyingly fast for its enormous size, but Lexa manages to dance out of reach, driven by determination as much as instinct. She  _ must _ do this. She must show Clarke the lengths she will go to protect a mate, to protect her future pups.

After dodging the  _ pauna’s _ massive paw, Lexa sees another opening: the beast’s shoulder has lowered in order to reach her. Shouting in exertion, she brings her blade sweeping down with all the strength in her body.

It still isn’t enough. She can’t slice through the  _ pauna’s _ thick coat. Before she can recover, it sweeps sideways with its powerful arm and sends her flying. She crashes backwards into a tree trunk, all the air whooshing from her lungs at once.

The  _ pauna _ does not wait for her to recover. It charges, barreling toward her on all fours. Lexa’s mind races. She cannot keep dodging forever. Already, her limbs are shaking with exhaustion, and she barely has any breath left. She must find a way to bring the beast down before she loses the strength to fight.

She sees that way a split second before the  _ pauna _ reaches her. With its head lowered, she can see a place where its hair is thinner, right where its throat meets its back. At the last possible moment, she leaps, letting the  _ pauna _ collide with the tree and landing on its back. While it shakes itself, she turns, driving her sword deep into the back of its neck.

This time,  _ finally, _ she pierces its flesh. A spray of hot crimson blood spurts out around her sword, and the  _ pauna _ makes a gurgling sound of surprise. It thrashes beneath her, nearly throwing her from her perch, but she is able to let go of her sword and grasp its fur, clinging on for dear life.

Just when she thinks her arms are about to be wrenched from their sockets, the  _ pauna _ collapses to the ground with a heavy thud, stirring up dust and leaves. Lexa coughs, but doesn’t move, waiting to see whether her quarry is truly dead. After several moments, she feels safe enough to release her grip. The  _ pauna _ is still and unmoving beneath her, lying in a pool of its own blood.

With a sigh of relief, Lexa clambers to her feet, flexing her sticky, bloodstained hands. Slowly, a smile spreads across her face. She rarely takes pleasure in death, but the beast who almost killed her mate-to-be has finally met its end. So will anything, or anyone, who even dreams of harming Clarke.

***

The first thing Clarke notices when she steps out of her tent in search of dinner is a large crowd of people milling about. It’s unusual, since she had taken care to position herself near the edge of the forest for a little privacy. Most people aside from her friends don’t wander this way.

The second thing she notices is that almost all of the gatherers are Grounders. They regard her with wide, fascinated eyes, as if they are still startled to see her even though she has spent the past several weeks among them. Clarke is used to stares—she knows that, to them, she is the woman who helped  _ Heda _ bring down the Mountain—but this is particularly awkward.

The third thing she notices is that, amidst the circle of curious onlookers, there is a body lying on the ground. Not a human body, however. This body is huge and covered in thick black fur. It’s a gorilla, just like the one that had almost killed her and Lexa.

She takes a step back without thinking, gasping in surprise, but the creature is unmoving. Looking for more than a second, she can tell it’s clearly dead, but that’s not particularly comforting. How had this beast gotten here? Surely Lexa hadn’t…

After blinking away the worst of her shock, she looks at the crowd and spots a familiar face. Anya is standing nearby, although she is smirking rather than gaping like the others. She almost seems amused.

“What the fuck is this?” Clarke asks, gesturing at the  _ pauna’s _ corpse. If Lexa has killed this thing, she doesn’t see a single reason why Anya should find it funny. It had been a dangerous stunt to pull, and stupid on top of that.

Instead of addressing her, Anya turns to the other Grounders. “ _ Gon we _ ,” she orders, and when some are slow to scurry away, she gives them her best alpha snarl and a powerful flare of pheromones. The crowd scatters, leaving the two of them with a huge dead gorilla between their feet. “I apologize,” Anya says, although she doesn’t look particularly sorry. “There was no way to present Lexa’s gift without drawing some attention.”

“Gift?” Clarke repeats in disbelief. “What was Lexa thinking? Who makes a gift of something that almost killed us?”

“Since you said her name, you already know who,” Anya points out. “And you should show more gratitude. This beast tried to take your life. Lexa has slain it to prove she will protect you and your future pups with all her strength.”

Although she had been fully prepared to continue stewing in her anger, Clarke is hit with a wave of something else: happy bewilderment. Pups? Her and Lexa? It’s the first time someone has spoken the possibility aloud.

Clarke’s lips move soundlessly for a moment. She is stunned, unsure what to say. However, she is saved from embarrassed by the sound of someone else calling her name. “Hey, Clarke? What’s going on? I saw a bunch of Grounders over here and—whoa…”

Raven, who had emerged from one of the nearby tents, stops short, staring at the dead beast in disbelief. After a moment, her eyes narrow, forehead wrinkling with brooding concern. “This is  _ her _ again, isn’t it?” she says to Clarke, her jaw clenched.

There is no way of avoiding the confrontation. Clarke nods.

“So, you’re going to tell her to quit bringing you dead animals, right?”

Once more, Clarke doesn’t answer. She has learned that sometimes it is better to save her words.

Her non-answer is little better than an affirmative. “Seriously, Clarke?” Raven says, almost growling. “She killed Finn!”

_ “I _ killed Finn,” Clarke reminds her. She does not have difficulty saying the words anymore. It is a burden she has taken on herself long before this moment. “Lexa saved us all.”

“Yeah, you stabbed him, but—”

“There is no but,” Clarke says. “Finn knew exactly what he was doing, and so did I.”

Having run into a brick wall, Raven turned to Anya, the only other person on whom to unleash her anger. “This is your Commander’s fault. She killed an innocent person—”

“Your friend killed eighteen innocents. His death was payment for those lives taken. It is by Lexa’s grace that she permitted Clarke to give him a peaceful death.” There was a pause as Raven fumed and Anya waited in deliberate silence. “Unless you think the lives of eighteen of our people are worth less than one of yours?”

Raven couldn’t seem to find an answer to that. Though her fists remained clenched and her eyes stayed sharp, she didn’t offer a counterargument.

“Lexa didn’t have to let me get away with killing Finn the way I did. And she didn’t have to join up with us either.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Raven said, having found her voice again. “She needed us to get into Mount Weather.”

“Yes,” Clarke agreed, “and we needed her to survive down here. We still need her. We need each other.”

Raven’s expression remained deeply unhappy, but Clarke could tell that brilliant mind of hers was racing behind it. Finally, after a long time, Raven let out a huff of aggravated agreement. “I get it. I don’t  _ like _ it, but I get it. Just remember, I’m loyal to people who have earned it. You’ve earned me, Clarke.  _ She _ hasn’t.”

“I’ve earned you, huh?” Clarke says, offering Raven a small smile.

“Yeah,” Raven mutters. “Yeah, you have. No matter what stupid shit you do.”

_ Like mating with the Commander. _

Clarke decides to take that as a blessing. From Raven, it’s the closest she’ll get. She pulls the beta into a short but firm hug. “Thanks.”

“You’re too good at this alliance building thing,” Raven grumbles. “Can’t let me be mad like a reasonable person.”

It is Anya’s turn to smile. “Without her skills, all of us might be dead.”

“I know it.” Raven steps out of Clarke’s embrace, staring down at the gorilla. “So, you get a lot of these things around here? Do I need to start watching my back during my walks through the woods?”

Anya shook her head. “Such beasts are rare, but yes. The forest is home to many dangerous and wonderful creatures.”

With the two of them engaged in conversation, Clarke slips away. There is someone else she needs to talk to more, and Raven’s reaction has only bolstered her certainty. If someone so mistrustful of Grounders can be convinced that she is on the right course, she can convince others as well.

Maybe she’s finally hit a stroke of luck. Maybe, for once in her life, what she wants to do and what it’s her duty to do aren’t in conflict.

It’s about time.

***

Lexa scans the map spread across her table, studying the borders thoughtfully. Solidifying them without too much bloodshed has taken years, but now, she must alter them yet again. Indra will not be pleased. Since the Sky People landed in  _ Trikru _ territory, they will be contributing the most to  _ Skaikru’s _ new settlement.

Despite Clarke’s heroic efforts at the Mountain, there are those who will insist  _ Skaikru _ doesn’t really belong. Lexa is prepared to push back against that line of thought. The Sky People have more than earned a place among the Twelve Clans, and she will say so as loudly as necessary until the rest of her people fall in line.

If there is one good side to all this, aside from the fall of Mount Weather, it is that the Sky People have not come empty-,handed. They bring medicine and  _ tek _ that the Twelve Clans have never even heard of, and Lexa is confident Indra will be able to look past her pride and see that the benefits of having such gifts close at hand will outweigh losing a small portion of land.

The sound of low voices outside the tent causes Lexa to lift her head, but it’s the familiar smell in the air that turns it. She would know that scent anywhere, and it draws her like a moth to a flame. Clarke. Clarke has come to see her at last.

Immediately, the map is forgotten. Lexa had only been examining it to keep the omega off her mind, and now, she is all too happy to put the work aside. Her, putting work and duty aside—it is something she hasn’t allowed herself to do in years, but it also lifts some of the weight from her shoulders.

However, it is Indra, not Clarke, who pokes her head into the tent a moment later.  _ “Heda, _ Clarke is here to see you. Will you allow her in?”

Indra is only asking for propriety’s sake, but Lexa snorts in annoyance anyway. “Yes. Send her in, and tell my guards to leave. I will speak with her privately.”

Lexa cannot quite tell if the look on Indra’s face is surprised or amused. Eventually, she decides on surprised, only because she finds it very difficult to picture Indra amused under any circumstances. The other alpha offers no challenge.  _ “Sha, Heda,”  _ she murmurs, retreating from the tent and allowing another figure to enter.

As soon as her gaze rests upon Clarke, Lexa realizes something is wrong. The omega is angry, radiating unhappy pheromones that almost have Lexa whimpering in confusion. Some part of her had considered the possibility that, despite their kiss, Clarke might reject her offer, but she had not expected fury.

“Clarke,” she whispers, taking a step forward, but the omega’s growl freezes her in place.

“What the hell were you thinking, Lexa? A  _ pauna? _ You could have died!”

Lexa flounders for a response, but her mouth merely hangs open. After a moment, a smile spreads across her face. The rage in Clarke’s flashing blue eyes isn’t rage at all, but concern. Concern for  _ her. _

“Stop grinning like an idiot. You went back to hunt the thing that almost killed us!”

“Yes,” Lexa says, trying to hold back laughter. “I thought you would be pleased—”

“You thought wrong,” Clarke huffs. “You think I  _ want _ a mate who throws herself in danger?”

Lexa merely blinks. “Does that mean you wish for me to be your mate?”

A little of Clarke’s anger fizzles out, leaving her looking bewildered instead. “Well,  _ yes, _ ” she states, as if it’s already quite obvious, “but not if you’re going to keep throwing your life away.”

“I am _Heda._ _Heda_ has always been expendable—”

“I don’t care about  _ Heda. _ I care about Lexa!” Clarke’s lower lip trembles, and Lexa sees something else beneath the fury in her eyes: fear. “I care about  _ you. _ Maybe  _ Heda _ can be replaced, but you can’t. Not for me.”

Lexa releases a deep sigh. This time, when she steps forward, Clarke doesn’t stop her. The omega allows Lexa to take her in a gentle embrace, and the two of them stand there for a while, breathing slowly, with Lexa holding Clarke’s hips and Clarke clutching the sleeves of Lexa’s jacket.

“I just don’t want to lose you right after I’ve found you,” Clarke whispers. “I’ve lost too many people already.”

“So have I,” Lexa says. She knows loss all too well. It is an unhealing wound that can only scar over at best. And Clarke… Clarke is too precious for her to lose without losing herself.

“I know you’re the Commander,” Clarke says, almost pleading. “I know you have a duty to your people. But if we’re going to try this, I  _ need _ to know you’re always coming back. Or at least that you’ll try.”

Lexa removes one of her hands from Clarke’s waist, cupping her cheek instead. “I will try. I will try to consider my life with the same value you do. That, I can promise.”

She isn’t sure which of them leans in first, but it doesn’t matter. When their mouths meet, their bodies melt together. Clarke’s tongue is brushing the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, and Clarke’s scent is in her nose, filling her lungs with flowers. This isn’t at all like their kiss before their march on Mount Weather. That had been a frantic surge to keep from drowning in despair. But this… it’s a kiss that holds promise. It’s a kiss that seals a bond for the future.

When they break apart, Clarke’s nose brushes hers for a brief moment. Lexa only hesitates slightly before diving back in for more, chasing Clarke’s lips in time to catch them. They kiss again, and again, and this time, it’s Lexa who walks Clarke back into the table and pins her there, not trapping her, but giving her something to brace herself against.

“Stop,” Clarke mutters, and Lexa pulls back, confused and a little disappointed. Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t say anything, merely waiting to see what Clarke wants. When the omega sees her worried expression, she squeezes Lexa’s arm in reassurance. “No, it’s okay. I just… I want to give you something.”

“A gift?”

Clarke nods, rolling up her right sleeve. Wrapped around her wrist is a black band with a strange silver circle in the middle. There are symbols inside, and three arrows pointing to them. One is moving at a visible rate, and Lexa’s eyes widen in understanding. She has read of such things in her library and seen diagrams. It is an ancient method of keeping time, one the Sky People have obviously maintained. There are monuments with similar designs around  _ Tondisi _ as well, although the arrows no longer move.

“This watch belonged to my father,” Clarke says, removing the band. “It’s one of the only things I… he gave it to me before he died.”

Lexa’s mouth goes dry. “Clarke, I cannot take this from you—”

But Clarke is already doing up the strap around her left wrist. “I want you to have it. I can’t get you a ring, but this seems more your style anyway.”

_ “Mochof.” _ She lifts her hand, admiring the watch. The weight will take some getting used to, but she has to admit, it is pleasing to look at, and it will be a comforting reminder of Clarke when the omega is not at her side. “I will wear it always. But… rings? Is that what your people usually do when selecting mates?”

Clarke nods. “Yes. We exchange rings. Which, I might point out, is way easier and  _ safer _ than hunting deadly gorillas.”

“The hunt for a dangerous beast is traditional,” Lexa protests. “How else am I supposed to prove I can protect my mate and our pups?”

Clarke’s cheeks flush a rosy pink at the mention of pups, but she doesn’t make mention of it. “So the deer was to prove you could provide for me. And the pauna was to prove you could protect me. Are there any more surprises I should know about?”

Lexa clears her throat. “Only one more, and I promise it will not endanger my life.” While Clarke gazes at her expectantly, Lexa searches for her nerve. In all honesty, this leaves her feeling more exposed than fighting the pauna. She calms herself, remembering that this is Clarke, who has come to understand her better in a few weeks than everyone else has in her lifetime. “Among my people, alphas are judged based on our ability to provide, protect, and… procreate. You must find me physically suitable to sire your pups.”

***

Clarke’s brain short-circuits, stuck on the last few words Lexa said.  _ ‘You must find me physically suitable to sire your pups…’  _ Abruptly, she is reminded of just how different her people are from Lexa’s. On the Ark, couples were free to choose whether or not to have children. Birth control implants were easily accessible—she has one herself—and mates often waited until their late twenties or even their thirties before trying for pups.

Here on Earth, things are different. In her short time here, she has seen omegas her age with babies on their hips, and she has heard alpha warriors no older than twenty talk about the families waiting for them back home. Certainly, the idea of having pups with Lexa  _ someday _ has danced around in her mind, especially since Octavia’s stray comment. But that  _ someday _ is key. Her people have only just won a war with the Mountain Men and started to make a life for themselves here on Earth. She definitely isn’t ready to bring more lives into it.

“Uh…”

Lexa picks up on her uncertainty. “My people have medicine, Clarke, medicine we can use to delay such things until a more stable time. We use it in years of famine or sickness especially.”

Clarke lets out a long breath of relief. “Okay, good. Not that I’m nixing the idea of pups completely, but it’s too soon for me. I’m not ready.”

Lexa gives her a reassuring smile. “The Coalition is not ready for their Commander to reproduce so quickly either, I think. No need for you to worry. And proving my ability to, ah…  _ satisfy  _ you does not require us to conceive a litter.”

“Oh.” Clarke doesn’t mean for the word to come out breathless, but it does anyway. ‘Satisfaction’ sounds a lot less scary than pups, and if  _ that’s  _ what Lexa has in mind… “So, the third step is kind of like this?” She runs her hand up along Lexa’s side, feeling the curve of the alpha’s hip through her leather jacket.

Lexa’s eyes widen, then narrow with an almost predatory gleam. “Something like that, yes.”

“What about this?”

Clarke leans in, taking Lexa’s lips again, but she doesn’t keep control of the kiss for long. Lexa’s tongue presses into her mouth, stroking against her own, drawing her attention back to the warm glow between her legs. Her doubts fade into the background, and she kisses Lexa back for all she’s worth until the two of them need to part for breath again.

“Much more enjoyable than fighting a pauna.”

“Yeah?” Clarke unfastens one of the ties at the front of Lexa’s coat, letting it fall open to reveal another inch of her collarbone. The alpha’s heartbeat is throbbing visibly at the base of her throat, and Clarke’s mouth waters. “… Show me. You’ve got something to prove, right?”

She doesn’t need to ask twice. With a low growl, Lexa hitches her up onto the table and steps between her legs, forcing them apart. Even though they’re both still clothed, the gesture is so raw, so primal, that Clarke can’t help but throb against the seam of her pants. She wants them off, wants Lexa in her, but that’s going to take time—time she doesn’t want to waste. A switch has been flipped, and her body is burning.

Lexa seems to understand. Her dominant scent flares, and her fingers slide beneath the hem of Clarke’s shirt, touching her blazing skin. They leave lines of fire behind, lines that crawl up inch by agonizing inch. Clarke groans against Lexa’s mouth, trying to find a use for her own hands. At first, she threads her fingers through Lexa’s braided mane. It’s softer than it looks, and it gives her something to hold as she starts to shake. But Lexa has other ideas. She begins to pull up Clarke’s shirt, and Clarke is forced to lift her arms so the alpha can peel it off.

Once her shirt slides free, Clarke is surprised to see laughter in the alpha’s eyes. Lexa snorts, staring at her chest, and Clarke is offended for a brief moment before realizing why. The Commander isn’t staring at her breasts, but at her bra.

“That looks incredibly uncomfortable and inefficient,” Lexa says, shaking her head in amusement.

“Then how about you take it off?”

Lexa does so, with less trouble than Clarke is expecting. A small, adorable frown appears on her face as she encounters the hooks for the first time, but she manages to undo them without too much difficulty. When the bra falls away, Clarke’s chest expands in relief, and Lexa’s eyes grow wide with wonder.

“Clarke,” she whispers, and Clarke is mostly convinced Lexa isn’t aware she’s saying her name. The alpha reaches out, cautiously at first, then with more confidence as she takes Clarke’s breasts in her hands. One of her thumbs circles the stiff peak of Clarke’s nipple, and Clarke’s hips jerk forward involuntarily, making the sturdy wooden table beneath her groan.

After that, it’s a mad dash to get their clothes off. Lexa’s jacket goes flying while Clarke struggles to kick off her pants without surrendering her perch. At one point, while Lexa is helping her remove them, Clarke is pretty sure she hears an audible rip, but she doesn’t care. She can get new pants. This is more important.

Even once she’s naked in the sweltering air of the tent, Clarke isn’t satisfied. Lexa is still struggling with her own pants, but Clarke can’t help interrupting. More of Lexa’s tanned skin is on display than ever before, and she wants to soak it all in through her hands and lips.

While Lexa finishes removing her clothes, Clarke leans in, kissing along the graceful column of her throat. She smells safe, reassuring, but she tastes like wild and growing things, and Clarke’s tongue aches for more. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to bite down, not hard enough to break skin, but firmly enough to find a grip and suck.

Clarke gasps as the alpha’s nails rake down her back. Their naked bodies are twined together for the first time—she can feel Lexa’s lean form tense in her arms and the thundering beat of Lexa’s heart where their chests are pressed close. She wants more, so much more, but at the same time, merely resting skin to skin is almost overwhelming.

Not as overwhelming as the delicious scent of Lexa’s arousal. As it hit Clarke’s nose, she finds herself following it, kissing down along Lexa’s delicate collarbone to the top of her chest. The alpha’s breasts are smaller than her own, but warm and firm, with tight brown nipples that strain against her palms as she cups them. They’re sensitive, too, if the low growl rumbling in Lexa’s throat is any indication.

To her surprise, Lexa grasps her wrists, pulling her hands away. At first, Clarke worries she’s done something wrong, but the flame burning behind Lexa’s green eyes is all lust. “This is my chance to prove myself,” Lexa rumbles, and Clarke shudders as a wave of alpha dominance washes over her. “Please, allow me to do so.”

Clarke swallows. During her previous sexual encounters, she’s always taken the lead despite being an omega. This time, however, it’s clear that Lexa has something specific in mind. She inhales deeply, but there’s nothing to fear in Lexa’s scent. It seeps into her muscles, relaxing her and coaxing more sticky heat from between her legs.

“Okay.”

Then Lexa kneels before her, ducking beneath her calves, and Clarke’s entire world becomes the soft heat of the alpha’s tongue.

***

The Commander kneels for no one.

_ Heda _ may be the servant of her people, but certain protocols must be followed. She must project a constant aura of dominance, of strength, of power. Kneeling means weakness and submission. Her subjects must kneel before her, not the other way around.

The Commander kneels for no one, and yet… Lexa kneels before Clarke.

She does it not to submit, not because she is weak, but for the simplest reason of all: to bring Clarke pleasure. For this moment, she will put Clarke before her people, Lexa before the Commander, and work to give her new lover the most powerful release she can provide.

As her tongue glides between Clarke’s folds for the first time, selfishness almost overwhelms her. Clarke tastes so good, dripping honey, omega-heat. If the smell threatened to drive her wild before, the flavor is addictive. She burrows her tongue into Clarke’s entrance before she can stop herself, probing and swirling in search of more sweetness.

It’s Clarke soft whine, as well as the omega’s trembling grip on her hair, that brings Lexa back to herself. She has a duty to perform—this isn’t simply about drinking Clarke in. She withdraws her tongue, ignoring Clarke’s low moans of disappointment, and sets about exploring more thoroughly, using the tip of her tongue to tease apart Clarke’s swollen outer lips so she can learn the landscape more thoroughly.

And what a landscape it is. Clarke is a soft, smooth, welcoming pink, with wetness clinging to every lip and fold. Lexa begins with light strokes at first, testing the omega’s sensitivity, but that’s a fruitless task because Clarke’s hips start rocking forward, searching desperately for more pressure. Lexa releases a low growl, letting her nails rake gently against Clarke’s thighs as a reminder. Only when Clarke stops bucking does she continue, kissing and nibbling her way up to the straining bud of Clarke’s clit.

When she draws it into her mouth, she is greeted with an eager flood against her chin. Clarke’s grip on her hair tightens, and the omega’s walls pulse, coating the lower half of Lexa’s face with wetness. Lexa pulls away, unsure whether she’s made Clarke come or just ratcheted up her pleasure, but she doesn’t get a chance to ask, because Clarke pulls her back in, raising her hips in supplication as pleas spill from her lips. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, Lexa  _ don’t stop… _ ”

It’s her name as much as the ‘don’t stop’ that summons a growl from deep within Lexa’s throat. Clarke is calling  _ her _ name. Her chest swells with pride, and she takes the shortest possible gulp of air before sucking Clarke back into her mouth, lashing and circling with her tongue and allowing the omega to continue rocking urgently against her face.

The next several minutes are something of an endurance test. Although Lexa loves every moment, every drop of nectar that pours between her lips, every twitch of Clarke’s soft walls, every pulse of the omega’s sensitive clit, Clarke is rutting against her so eagerly that it’s hard to breathe, let alone keep her place. Clarke is so slippery that her lips and tongue are constantly sliding too, veering off course and forcing her to crane her neck in order to stay in the same spot.

But it’s worth it. It’s worth it because Clarke is a panting, trembling, whimpering mess above her. Though Lexa may be on her knees with Clarke’s hands fisting her hair, she can tell from the omega’s rising scent that she holds all the power. She doubles her efforts, sucking Clarke’s sensitive point, groaning as more heat smears across her cheeks and chin.

Clarke cries out again, louder this time, and a powerful shudder passes through her body. She clutches desperately at the back of Lexa’s head, stomach muscles flexing, slick walls fluttering. Lexa can feel the rhythmic pulses just beneath her lower lip, and the sensation sends a jolt straight down to her core. How would it feel to have such softness wrapped around her instead of merely twitching against her?

That thought causes her own clit to extend. It had been swollen and sensitive before, but now it begins to grow, throbbing as it lengthens and thickens. Soon, her cock is straining against the air, begging for attention. But all of her attention is fixed firmly on Clarke: her mouth is still hard at work and her hands are wrapped around Clarke’s plush thighs to keep her pinned against the table. She summons all the patience she can muster. This is her chance to prove herself, and she won’t ruin it by being selfish.

It’s Clarke, however, who reaches her limit first. The omega finds her peak with a sharp wail, shivering from head to toe and releasing a flood into Lexa’s mouth. The slick, salty burst of wetness is everything Lexa had hoped for and more: all omega, all Clarke, all for her. She laps it up greedily, alternating between flat swipes of her tongue and deep draws of her lips around Clarke’s clit. 

She would have been content to continue for hours, cleaning every drop from Clarke’s soft lips, but she doesn’t get the chance. Clarke yanks her up by her hair, drawing her into a fierce kiss filled with the raw taste of omega and release. “Lexa,” she gasps, raking her nails down the sides of Lexa’s arms. “Fuck me. I  _ need _ you to fuck me.”

***

Empty. All other thoughts have fled from Clarke’s mind, and her body’s needs have taken over. She’s empty, hollow, aching, and Lexa is the only alpha who can fill her. The only alpha Clarke  _ wants _ to fill her. She had thought she knew what lust was, what desire felt like, but this… everything else pales in comparison. Lexa has fanned the spark within her into a roaring flame, one that threatens to consume her.

She catches Lexa’s lips in a series of messy kisses, ones that break only so she can make her need especially clear with panting whines. “Lexa… Lexa,  _ please…” _ She rocks her hips forward, searching for contact, and stiffens as she hits Lexa’s firm stomach muscles. For such a slender woman, she is surprisingly strong, and her abdomen is deliciously well defined. Clarke pumps her hips a few time, painting the flat surface of Lexa’s stomach with wetness, but it isn’t enough. She needs to be fucked, filled.

Clarke looks down, and even though she isn’t surprised by the sight that greets her, her artist’s mind instantly takes a snapshot. The shaft of Lexa’s cock is fully extended, long and thick and glistening, the blunt head a blushing red where it’s already started leaking. It’s large, almost intimidatingly so, but she’s far too needy to question it. She wants every inch of it, every inch of…

_ “Lexa!” _

Just when she’s certain she can’t stand another second of burning emptiness, Lexa’s hips align with hers. The angle isn’t perfect. Instead of pushing inside her right away, the underside of Lexa’s shaft rubs against her, spreading her wetness around. When Clarke realizes Lexa is actually doing it on  _ purpose _ , she seizes the Commander’s braids, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Lexa,” she growls, nipping the alpha’s soft lower lip, “if you don’t take me  _ now, _ I’m going to drag you down to the floor and...”

To her frustration, Lexa merely smirks. “That will not be necessary.” She realigns her pelvis, and suddenly, Clarke sees stars. The thick head of Lexa’s cock is finally,  _ finally _ pushing into her, and it feels even more glorious than her fevered mind had imagined. At last, she gets the fullness she has been craving, a fullness that burns even as it soothes, but that she can’t even dream of giving up.

It’s only when Lexa starts pumping her hips that Clarke realizes she hasn’t even taken all of the alpha’s shaft. She had been so focused on its girth that she’d forgotten about the length, and when the head of Lexa’s cock scrapes against her sensitive, swollen front wall, her eyes roll back in her head and her vision blurs.

Clarke doesn’t want to blink. She wants to look into Lexa’s eyes, to memorize the way the colors there swirl as their bodies join, but she can’t. Her lashes flutter, grazing her cheeks, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth, swallowing down a sob. Even though she longs for movement, part of her wants to savor this, the connection between their bodies.

“Clarke.”

At the sound of her name, Clarke forces her eyes back open. Lexa is gazing into them, the tenderness there a contrast to the coiled tension Clarke can feel thrumming through her body. She returns the look, hoping, praying that Lexa can see the truth of her own feelings in her face.

Lexa must, because she snaps her hips forward, and the two of them cry out as one.

Clarke’s walls ripple, clenching around the thick intrusion into her body—but it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, not really. It feels like some missing part of her has slotted into place. When Lexa gives a grunt and pushes her hips just a bit further, Clarke squeezes intentionally, trying to coax the alpha into movement. The only thing she needs more than being filled is to be fucked— _ taken. _

Thankfully, Lexa is of the same mind. Her hands, slender but strong, grasp Clarke’s hips, and her hips start rocking. Clarke tries to buck her own hips, to take Lexa deeper, but it isn’t an option while she’s perched on the table. All she can do is clutch the wooden edge for dear life, and then, when that isn’t enough, fling her arms around Lexa’s torso and score red lines down the shifting muscles of her back.

Clarke’s world narrows until it’s nothing but a rhythm: in, out, in—full, empty, full. After only a few thrusts, she’s on the verge of coming again, and she can’t find it in herself to be ashamed. Lexa’s mouth has left her hypersensitized as well as satisfied. Each rut of Lexa’s hips brings the crashing waves closer, and she doesn’t want to run from them.

“Clarke…”

This time, when Lexa says her name, it’s different. The alpha’s face is tight with need, as if she’s fighting her own inner battle, and Clarke feels a wave of affection for her. Of course Lexa is still focused on pleasuring her. It goes without saying. And yet, she can see cracks at the edges of Lexa’s expression, a glinting, primal selfishness simmering just beneath the surface. She is trying to be generous, but her alpha nature is fighting to take center stage.

There is only one thing Clarke can do. She kisses Lexa, hard and deep, and lets herself come, hoping her release will allow Lexa the freedom to seek her own.

Her orgasm steals more of her breath than the kiss. She is reduced to a shaking, whimpering mess, grasping Lexa’s shoulders and clenching around the throbbing cock inside her. The pressure within her bursts, and she can barely find enough voice to moan as sweet relief runs down her thighs in wet, sticky trails.

Before her pleasure can end, Lexa’s begins. The alpha gives one final growl, yanking away from the kiss and seizing Clarke’s shoulder in her teeth. The flash of pain is enough to send Clarke spiraling all over again. It’s not just a playful nip, but a mating bite. Her own teeth snap uselessly against the air, and it’s all she can do to stop herself from returning it.

But does she need to stop herself?

Lexa has done everything to earn her loyalty and trust—including some stupid, dangerous things Clarke wishes she hadn’t. Her mind might be fuzzy thanks to the rippling chain of releases rolling through her body, but her heart feels clear. She wants this. She sets her teeth against the base of Lexa’s throat, where the alpha’s heartbeat lives, and bites down.

***

Lexa goes rigid as soon as the beautiful pain courses through her. Part of her hadn’t been expecting it. She’d thought Clarke might wait, that her bite would have been the question and Clarke’s answer would have come a few months later, after they’d had some practice at this. But no, Clarke’s teeth have sunk into her shoulder, piercing her flesh with the best kind of pain, and the omega’s walls are still rippling around her.

She can restrain herself no longer.

With one last jerk of her hips, Lexa comes, feeling fullness travel from the throbbing base of her shaft to the twitching tip. She empties everything she has, flooding Clarke with sharp bursts, moaning with relief. She had known she needed this, but she hadn’t realized just how much until her peak took her. She tries to withdraw, to get a few more thrusts in, but it’s more difficult than anticipated—she has started to knot, and Clarke’s entrance clings to her, trying to keep her sealed inside.

Clarke whimpers a bit into her shoulder, hips wiggling as she adjusts, but the omega’s walls stretch beautifully to hold her. Lexa has never felt herself held so tightly. She stops trying to thrust and simply enjoys the warm press of muscle all around her, letting Clarke milk the rest of her release from her shaft with sharp, shuddering contractions.

It takes some time. She is especially full, and Clarke’s walls are greedy. But her knot keeps every drop sealed inside, and as the seconds pass, she and Clarke finally release their bites. They kiss again, softer this time, tasting of each other, and for the first time in a long time, Lexa lets herself relax. With Clarke, there is no need for pretense. There is no need to fall into her usual role. Clarke understands her, and Clarke… loves her? She thinks so. That is what she smells, what she feels, but the words have not yet been spoken. It doesn’t matter though, she realizes, because the proof of Clarke’s love is on her neck. Clarke has marked her, and though  _ Heda _ belongs to the world, Lexa belongs to Clarke—only to Clarke.

As the minutes pass, their bodies finally stop shaking. They hold each other, breathing shallowly to recover lost air, then deeply, occasionally trading kisses or scattering soft pecks across each other’s faces.

“Hey,” Clarke rasps after a while.

“Hello,” Lexa says, smiling shyly. She shouldn’t feel awkward. Her knot is still sealed inside of Clarke, after all, but this is the moment when the little world for two they have made is fading back into reality, and she isn’t sure what she will find.

“So, how pissed do you think your Coalition is going to be when they find out about us?”

Lexa groans. “Please, Clarke. Not now.”

“I’m just saying… because I want to tell everyone. I want to shout it from the tops of the trees, you know?”

That puts a grin on Lexa’s face. “You do?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“It will not be easy,” Lexa warns her, “being the Commander’s omega.”

“Nothing on Earth has been easy,” Clarke says. “But it’s been worth it. All worth it. You’re worth it.”

Lexa’s heart swells. No one has ever considered her to be worth anything.  _ Heda, _ though important, is expendable. But Clarke sees her worth, and her title doesn’t even factor into those feelings. Clarke values her.

“Then I am the luckiest alpha in all of the Thirteen Clans.”

“Thirteen?” Clarke asks.

“Counting  _ Skaikru. _ There will be some ritual involved, of course…”

“No more hunting  _ pauna,” _ Clarke insists.  _ “Please.” _

“No more hunting  _ pauna,” _ Lexa agrees. “But there will be a brand…”

“What, seriously?”

“... Perhaps we should have this discussion later.”

Clarke grumbles a little, but apparently agrees, because she rests her chin against Lexa’s shoulder, sighing deeply with contentment. Lexa does the same on Clarke’s opposite shoulder, hugging her mate tight. Her mate. Clarke is her mate. She really is the luckiest alpha in all of the Thirteen Clans.


End file.
